Wishing She Was Somehow Here Again
by Princess Of Texts Ongoing
Summary: Okay.... new phan phic. Alone once again.... can Erik survive? Rated T for violence.... I think. I'm new to all this. Please read and review!
1. Chapter 1

Okay, people. My new phanfic. Ta da! does daft twiddly bow thing Um, yeah. So. It's entitled…. Um, I'm not sure. I suppose it is called, NAME TO BE INSERTED. Tell you what, anyone with any suggestion as to what I should call it, post them on this thread. Please. I need a name for this fic!

A few hours after the disaster and Christine leaving….

Even in his lair, Erik could hear the screams of people above him in the opera house.

'How many have died?' he wondered to himself. Not that he cared. It really wasn't an issue. The only thing on his mind was his angel, his Christine.

How could she choose the fop over him? Erik banged down on the organ, and a foul noise emitted from it. The screams could still be heard. He sighed. The opening night of his opera had certainly not gone to plan. Well, it wasn't his fault….

_Christine._

After all he'd done for her. Why? Why?

"WHY?"

Erik had not realised that the word had escaped himself. Again, he brought his fist down on the organ. He allowed himself to collapse and sob uncontrollably. Erik was never a man to cry-he considered it to be something that only the weak did. Yet he continued to weep, the tears running down his cheeks.

He sat up for a moment and touched his lips with two fingers.

_The kiss._

The memory of it replayed over and over in his mind. His angel. It was the one time she had showed him any true sign of love.

And she had faked it. She chose the Vicomte.

The kiss had triggered such an explosion of passion for Erik, but it obviously meant nothing to her. She left. She only did it to save her one and only, her fop. There was no chance of her returning.

He was alone. Once again, Erik was alone.

So, do I need to carry on? Do you want more?


	2. Chapter 2

2

Okay, I have just realised that I am the world's biggest prat. I only forgot the blasted disclaimer. So, just to clarify, I own NOTHING except the plot. I feel very stupid now. runs away and hides red face

Christine lay silently next to Raoul, staring up into the darkness. The immense dark room reminded her of the lair…. And the man who remained there, trapped in his world of never-ending night.

_Her angel._

Why did he urge her to go? She would have stayed, and gladly! She _wanted _to stay there.

She glanced over her shoulder sadly at Raoul, who slept on peacefully. Little did he know how she really felt. She had not really resisted him-she'd allowed him to hold her, to kiss her-and now she was sleeping (or doing a very bad job of it) in the same bed as him. Christine shuddered. This was certainly not what she had planned.

_Why _hadn't she resisted Raoul? Because all the while she was pretending that it was her angel holding her mouth captive in a lingering kiss, her angel's arms encircling her protectively (or was in possessively?), and her angel who lay next to her at that very moment in time. And when she'd opened her eyes to gaze at the man she loved, and breathed in to inhale his disturbing, yet strangely comforting scent, she would find herself faced with Raoul's nose as he dived in for yet another kiss, and his overpowering reek of over expensive cologne, and she would remember that it was all just a fantasy-her angel remained alone in his secret hideaway, where music was his religion.

She was stuck with a vain, stinking rich dandy, who, much as she loved him as friend, could never hold a candle to her one…. her only…. her angel.


	3. Chapter 3

3

Okay people, extraordinarily bored so decided to do another update-sure beats practising scales and arpeggios. So here it is….

Review replies

gerbear – Thank you! Here is your next chapter. Enjoy!

Son Kat – Thanks. This chapter is quite small, but Chapter 4 is giant. Very long.

erikphan24601 – What do you think?

BrokenAngel850 – I feel stupid on a regular basis. For me, it's a natural thing ;)

It had been a sleepless night. Erik walked around the lair in a daze-nothing made sense. His last scrap of sanity had disappeared now-the light at the end of the tunnel was no more.

He did the only thing that made sense to him now, after all that had happened-he sat at the organ and played a soft melody. He was sure that he had heard it before. He started singing the words which formed on his lips-words that he had heard before, yet he could not remember for the life of him where he had heard them:

_Wishing you were somehow here again,_

_Wishing you were somehow near…._

The song was so haunting…. slowly, the fog in his mind cleared, and he could see it…. the graveyard…. the mausoleum…. Christine….

_Christine_

He stopped playing abruptly and stood up, stood up far too quickly so the room span and whirled before his very eyes. He looked around frantically, his green eyes flicking back and forth. Everything reminded him of Christine…. the mannequin…. the organ…. The swan bed…. he looked down at his clenched fist, and opened it. The ring remained there in his palm.

He threw it across the lair in frustration, where it hit the opposite wall. He heard a faint 'clink' as it hit the ground. The room continued to swim and sway before his eyes. Still, he could find nothing that reminded him of his life before his angel came along-but was he sure he wanted to?

Erik collapsed on the floor and let a yell of all his pent-up anger, frustration and hate escape his mouth; then he began to sob. She had done this-she had banished him to the dark depths of despair again.

Deep down he knew that he had let her go; urged her to go, even. Yet he tried to bury that feeling, and continued to allow himself to believe that if she really loved him she would have stayed, despite what he said. What she had said was true-it was his soul that was twisted, and he knew it. He continued to weep for his loss.

His world was empty.


	4. Chapter 4

4

Bonjour guys. Sorry, my computer was in a coma. But now it has miraculously regained consciousness whoops with joy. It has been revived! IT LIVES! ahem But anyway, this part is extra long to compensate for the fact that I didn't post any on Sunday. Here goes….

The party had not been a great success, and Christine knew it. She sighed in exasperation. So many parties! Endless nights of dancing the most boring set routines with absolutely no imagination behind them whatsoever…. it sounded dreadfully tiresome to Christine, who had lived a humble, yet vibrant life at the Opera Populaire. Much as she enjoyed the odd party, these ones were most frightfully dull. They were not celebrations-merely opportunities to show off your wealth to one another-and there was certainly a lot of that going on. All the women wore dresses of the finest materials, and the most exquisite jewellery, and the men wore tailored outfits worth hundreds of francs. Although she wore a dress of fine peach silk that complimented her complexion perfectly, and a new set of diamond jewellery that Raoul had bought her that very afternoon, Christine still felt awkward; like she didn't fit in.

Well. She didn't. The people here were all snooty, snobby, self-centred toff-noses. And they looked down their noses at her. They knew of her humble beginnings, and wasted no tome in reminding her of them. Christine sighed and yawned noisily as they informed her of her life and the scandal currently surrounding her name. Christine started to slouch and let another bored yawn escape her. The women tittered, seemingly surprised and outraged that she was not hanging on to their every word. One woman made a particularly snide comment.

"I should listen if I were you," said the woman sniffily, "there is a lot of media coverage surrounding your name. If I were you, I would try to clear up the mess you've landed yourself in. Just because the Vicomte is your fiancé," and as this point she brought her face very close to Christine's, and whispered, "it doesn't mean we'll forget. The Vicomte can't kiss you and make it all better. He can't clean up the mess," she leaned back, "And we _never _forget." She nodded approvingly.

Christine was shocked and appalled. Never in her wildest dreams did she imagine that anyone-_anyone _would ever be so downright rude to her! Outraged, she followed the woman, who was now walking away grabbed her by the shoulder and pulled her around, her blood boiling.

"You evil, haughty cow!" yelled Christine.

Raoul heard the commotion and turned around. What he saw made his face drain of colour and his jaw drop.

Christine continued to scream at the woman who had offended her so unforgivably.

"I cannot _believe _what I've heard from you! And there is absolutely _no way _I am going to tolerate that kind of…. of…. "

But she never found to find the right word, for Raoul had grabbed her by the waist and was dragging her out of the ballroom, with her kicking and protesting loudly.

He threw her into the guests' room that he had finally managed to drag her to (receiving many bruises in the process). He took a deep breath before beginning to yell at her.

"I don't know _what _you were thinking of in there Christine, but there is _no way _I am going to accept that behaviour under _my_ roof!"

Christine raged back, "How _dare _belittle me like some…. some _infant! _The woman was being a bitch and was trying to embarrass me under what is not now also _my_ own roof! I _will not_ stand for that!"

"You've done a pretty damn fine job of embarrassing yourself _far_ more than she could have ever done! And may I remind you that this house has been in the de Changy family for generations; it therefore belongs to me. While this may be your _home_, it remains _my house_, and _I_ make the rules."

Christine looked at him in horror. How could he talk to her in such a manner? She pouted,

"My angel would _never_ talk to me like that,"

And he slapped her. He slapped her with such force that a thin spurt of blood issued from her lip.

It took Christine by surprise, and she staggered and fell awkwardly.

"….How can you raise your hand to me?" she whispered.

"Oh my God! What in on Earth have I done? Christine, I…." Raoul looked at his hand, as if he couldn't quite believe that it was he who had struck her. "….I'm so sorry."

Christine got up and glared at him. She stalked out of the room.

"I would have stayed with him, and gladly!" she yelled, and she slammed the door with a deafening crash.

So? What did you think? Please read! And any constructive criticism will be read and I will try to improve anything you feel need improving!


	5. Chapter 5

5

Reviews will be done another time, probably next chapter-sorry people, but this is gonna take a while to type….

Yet another sleepless night. Just one of many, thought Erik to himself.

He rolled off the bed and then stood up, looking around in dismay. The place was in complete disarray. Music manuscripts littered the organ and the floor surrounding it, clothes were strewn across the chest next to the bed. Erik looked on ashamedly, feeling like a pig in a sty. He was just glad that he was alone in the lair, so that nobody could see what _Ch…. Chris…._ he could not bring himself to repeat _her_ name. Okay. He would compromise. Nobody could see what _that…. that girl _had reduced him to. He was alone-nobody could hurt him. He was alone….

Or was he?

She watched from afar. The lair, once relatively organised, now was the most unorganised place ever-it sort of reminded her of the managers' office. Men. They all needed a woman in their lives to keep it in some sort of order, she thought with a small smile.

Then she realised with a pang of guilt that it was she who had denied him of that.

She watched him walk over to the organ and seat himself down to play. He sang as he played, and Christine let herself embrace the music. She even found herself joining in-

_Child of the wilderness,_

_Born into emptiness,_

_Learn to be lonely,_

_Learn to find your way in darkness._

_Who will be there for you?_

_Come forward and care for you?_

_Learn to be lonely,_

_Learn to be your one companion._

_Never dreamed out in the world,_

_There are arms to hold you,_

_You've always known,_

_Your heart was on its own._

_So laugh in your loneliness,_

_Child of the wilderness,_

_Learn to be lonely,_

_Learn how to love,_

_Life that is lived alone._

_Learn to be lonely,_

_Life can be lived,_

_Life can be learned alone._

Christine had no idea how she knew the words to the song. The words seemed to form on her lips. The music embraced her, caressed her, and held her. She knew what the song meant. She peered around the curtain, and saw her angel, trying to find the source of the voice which had been singing along with him. He looked wild and unkempt. She couldn't stifle a sob at what he had become.

He ran over to where she hid, and ripped back the curtain, a manic, triumphant grin on his face. It soon turned to horror when he saw who had produced the soft notes that had embraced him…. caressed him…. held him…. his face paled, and his jaw dropped.

"_Shit,_" he hissed, "SHIT! WHAT IN GOD'S NAME ARE _YOU_ DOING HERE?"

He turned from her and stomped off, tears trickling down his cheeks. He could not allow her the satisfaction of seeing him cry-not again.

The tears slid down her cheeks, dripping down onto the peach silk she still wore.

"Angel, I…." she began.

"Erik," he snapped, "the Angel of Music no longer resides in this domain. Nor phantoms, for that matter. Or any ghosts. Just Erik…." his voice tailed away.

"Erik. Is that your name?" she whispered.

He gave a short, sharp nod in answer.

"Erik," she sighed. The name sounded nice. It rolled off her tongue easily.

"Erik…. oh, Erik…. Er…."

He cut in like a knife, coldly.

"If you wish to address me, kindly refrain from repeating my name like some infernal parrot. Merely saying it once will be quite sufficient," he whipped around and fixed his eyes on her, glaring. She cowered.

"What do you want from me?" he hissed, "You want more? Well, let me tell you something," he grabbed her roughly by the chin and forced her to look at him. "_There's nothing left. _You've had it all. I gave you my music, my love, and most precious, and most stupidly, _my trust._ And you betrayed that trust, Christine. Now there's nothing left. Nothing more for you to take. I'm a broken man."

And with that, he fell back and started to weep, choking sobs wracking his entire body.

"Go back to your fop," he sobbed, "he can provide far more that I ever could."

She couldn't believe what she was seeing. Her angel lay on the floor, which was littered with parchment. What had she reduced him to?

She bent down and helped him up, supporting him.

"Erik," she said softly, "I've left Raoul."


	6. Chapter 6

Hellooooo! Sorry I haven't updated computer trouble. But here is…. dun dun DUHHHHHHHHHHHHH! …. the next chapter!

gerbear-I think it was you who replied. Anyway, thank you! This chapter is dedicated to you. Sorry it's so short and naff, but my computer was naffed up and before that I had writer's block. But the next chapter is v. long.

He looked around, bewildered. He could not comprehend what she had just said-she had left her precious Vicomte, the fop? But…. but why? With him, she had all she wanted…. or did she? Suddenly, a look of dawning comprehension spread over his face.

"So," he said quietly, a manic twinkle in his eye and a mad, twisted grin on his face, "he couldn't satisfy you…. and so you thought you'd come here, to fulfil your desires, to satisfy your hunger…." he laughed cruelly, the vibrations reverberating around the lair and bouncing off the walls.

The harsh, cruel chuckle filled Christine with fear. He continued,

"Think again, Christine, think again…."

She wore a look of horror.

"No! No, of course not! I left Raoul…."

"Because he was not enough for you, was he, bitch? Only _I_ can satisfy your hunger-the fop is to cold, too unfeeling. I _loved_ you with all my heart, Christine, unlike the Vicomte. But now, this love-it turns to _hate_…." he began to cry again.

"Why didn't you love me back?" he sobbed.

She took a deep breath.

"I do," she muttered quietly.

"What?"

"I DO!"

Sorry for the shortness and rubbishness of this chapter, I promise the next one is waaaaaaaaaaay better and longer. Thanks for reading!


	7. Chapter 7

Hi again. I decided to do Chapter 7 today, as yesterday's chapter was so sucky. This one took me a LONG TIME to write. So you'd better be duly appreciative. Or I'll get mad. And you won't like me when I'm mad. Hahaha just kidding! Funny, no? silence coughs Ahem. Well then, before I embarrass myself further, here are the review replies!

BrokenAngel858-Oh my God! I'm soooooo sorry; I forgot to reply to your review! I completely forgot you replied! Anyways, I'm really glad you're enjoying. As an apology, because I'm really sorry, this chapter is dedicated to you and gerbear.

gerbear-You are my most faithful reader! So I've dedicated this chapter to you as well :D

Here goes-Chapter 7….

Erik froze. What was she saying? Had he heard her right? He shook his head, looking stunned. He remained silent for quite some time.

"Well, that was, uh…. unexpected….," he finally muttered feebly, scratching his head.

"I thought so," Christine replied, "It wasn't exactly how I planned to break the news, but with you ranting and raving and me close to being punjabbed by you, I figured it was probably what you wanted to hear…."

"It _was_, but if it's not true…."

"Of _course_ it's true," she interrupted impatiently, "Is that what you think I am? Do you think I'm a liar, Erik?" She joined him where he stood at the mirror, looking at his reflection. She leaned over and whispered in his ear:

"_I only left because you told me to._"

Erik broke his gaze at the mirror. He looked at her sadly for a fleeting moment, then turned away.

"I thought that if you really wanted to stay, hen you would have, regardless of what I said."

With that, she grabbed him by the shoulder and turned him to face her. She looked him straight in the eye.

"People's minds don't work like that, Erik. They're not playthings. They're delicate-not to be fiddled with,"

He tried to pull away, but she kept a firm grip on him.

"No more mind games, Erik."

He glared at her furiously.

"Don't belittle me!" he hissed, and he pushed her away and stormed off, fuming.

"I don't know why I bothered coming back!" Christine yelled after him. He whirled around to face her, still scowling.

She continued.

"There just seems to be no pleasing some people! I leave, you're pissed off-I come back, you're still pissed off! How is it meant to work when you're so bloody indecisive? If you tell me what you want, Erik, I will do my best to make it happen, but I just don't know what you're after. Do you want me to stay or not? Whatever your decision, I will respect it, but you're just so hard to work out, Erik…." her voice cracked.

He suddenly realised how unreasonable he was being-how unreasonable he'd been being for all those years.

He walked briskly up to her, and laid his hand to rest on his shoulder. She took a sharp intake of breath. Suddenly, his grip tightened, and in one quick movement, he'd pinned her up against the damp stone wall (which was encrusted with mildew), and kissed her roughly.

As he pulled away, she looked up at him enquiringly, her chest rising and falling rapidly as she breathed shallowly.

"I'll take that as a yes, then?" she gasped.

Hope you liked it! Chapter 8 will hopefully be up soon…. when I've written it. I have made a start, but I have writer's block again. But I will begin to write again today, as I have a few (naff) ideas. Will try to complete it A.S.A.P. See you all soon!


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter 8

Hey, glad y'all are enjoying. I have another nice long chapter for you (aren't I kind?). But first…. review replies!

Twinkle22-Oh God, I'm not doing very well, am I? I forgot you too! So, along with my deepest apologies, I dedicate this chapter to you, along with gerbear and Internet Ghost.

Internet Ghost-Kat, thanks for crapping up this chapter (private joke here, people-I won't explain, because if I do, this chapter will become even longer than it is already), I have therefore decided to dedicate this to you. And thank you for your lovely reviews.

Operatic-You know, I though exactly the same thing, only I couldn't think of a better word to put in. So I just stuck with that. Glad you're enjoying anyhoo.

gerbear-You still remain my most faithful reader, so this is dedicated to you once again. Please enjoy!

Before starting this chapter, can I just stress that this phic is PREDOMINANTLY 2004 ANDREW LLOYD-WEBBER FILM BASED. Although there are snippets of Leroux and Kay here and there. Just thought I'd stress that, I don't think I made that clear (or, in fact, even mentioned it at all) when I was beginning this phic.

So here it is…. Chapter 8 DUUUUUUUUN! DUN DUN DUN DUN DUUUUUUUUUHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH! And that was so bloody pointless.

He grinned at her, issued a short, sharp nod in reply, and then continued to kiss her feverishly, drugged in her scent. He'd never felt so alive; never felt so full of purpose. He had no idea what he was doing-did it matter? All he knew was that he was doing what he felt was _right_. And she felt the same way. He knew. Because she'd told him so.

He began to sing to her, sensually and seductively, the notes rumbling from the very pit of his soul.

"_What raging fire shall flood the soul?_

_What rich desire unlocks its door?_

_What sweet seduction lies before us?"_

Christine thought she'd just about spontaneously combusted. By the time he'd finished the song, she was hot and trembling with lust. The song meant so much to her now, and she just knew that the words would be etched on her very soul forever. She gasped throatily as he continued to pepper her with kisses. She moved towards him and kissed him back. He gently prised open her teeth open and allowed his tongue to roam the deepest recesses of her mouth, running it along the roof of her mouth, sending shivers down her spine. As he pulled away gently, she could see the amber fire blazing in his eyes. She now knew _exactly_ what he was after-and she wasn't one to deny it him. She breathed raggedly,

"You make Raoul seem like one of the marble statues in the opera lobby."

He burst out laughing, and swung her around. She laid a hand on his face-and he could tell that he was not going to like what was bound to come next.

"Take the mask off, Erik," she breathed, "Hide no longer."

He sighed.

"You know I can't do that, Christine."

"Oh, please!" she laughed, "That isn't an issue. I love you for you. I don't give a damn about some facial disfigurement. I can live with that," She paused, and then continued, _"Maybe if you accepted it, then others would."_

"I'm not taking it off."

"Why the hell not?"

He paused, and then shook his head.

"You wouldn't understand,"

"Try me."

He looked at her determined face, and sighed.

"Well…. it's just…. I've been discriminated against for this bloody disfigurement all my life. Do you have any idea how humiliating, how painful it is, knowing that your mother doesn't want you; is repulsed by the very sight of you? Do you know, she never even held me, Christine, she couldn't bear it. She couldn't handle it. She couldn't love me. I was just some little piece of shit that just happened to be the product of her womb. And I couldn't blame her for hating me. Any mother would-wouldn't they? So I ran away. Because I loved her so much. I couldn't bear to put her through the torture of seeing my putrid carcass every day. I ran away to join the gypsies.

"That…. that _place_…. being there was like living hell. Having to sit in a cage all day, constantly being laughed at, gasped at…. some children, brought in by their families, even burst into tears at the very sight of me. After the Giry woman saved me, I had to find another way to strike terror into people's hearts; to gain their respect. I had to be able to have some kind of _power_, after all those years of having none, and being vulnerable without it.

"And I found that power-through the Phantom. Being him allowed to have that respect that I'd longed for-yet I knew that some people, like the Buquet bastard, still laughed at me-still mocked me when they thought I wasn't there, watching and listening. But those people-they underestimated the Angel of Music-I see everything; I hear everything. And I wasn't going to let it slide, most definitely not. My Punjab rope was my only friend-the power pulsated through it, flowing into my fingertips. I killed those who wouldn't listen-those who had no respect for the Opera Ghost. It gave me more power-more respect.

"The mask has protected me for so long; I cannot bear to be without it. Do you remember, Christine, when I pushed you away when you removed my mask the night after we first met? I did it because you'd taken away my protection. I felt vulnerable without it; like a tortoise without its shell. Surely you can understand that? I cannot remove this mask. If I remove it, I will lose all that power I've gained. If I remove it, you'll see the monster I am. _If I remove it, then you will see the fallen angel that I am._"

The tears began to roll down his cheeks. Christine held him to her, stroking his hair like he was a young child. As she rocked him, she talked to him soothingly:

"Erik, you can put all that behind you now. You don't need this power. The Phantom of The Opera…. well, in the end, I had no respect for him. I hated him. But you're not the Phantom any longer. You are Erik, and I fell in love with you-the musical genius who nurtured me, and made me the soprano I am now. The Phantom of The Opera is a bloody idiot. That's not you, Erik. Leave that all behind now. Take off the mask, and live your life as Erik-the man who I want to spend the rest of my life with. You are not a fallen angel. Everybody makes mistakes-if you take the mask off, then you can shed all those mistakes, and be a good man. Please, Erik. Do it for me."

Suddenly, he had lost all energy to argue. She had a point. A very good one, in fact. Typical-just typical of these bloody women-they were just born to argue, and invariably win. He shrugged.

"Okay. You win." he said grudgingly. Haltingly, he raised his hand to the mask-and removed it.

She reached up and stroked the blemished side of his face-then kissed it lightly.

"You see? All you need to do is accept yourself for who you are." she whispered.

He had to admit, he felt a whole lot better without it on. Relieved, relaxed, and unbelievably calm. And he felt real. Like he was living a lie no longer.

He took her hand.

"Let me take you on a journey," he whispered silkily, "Past the point of no return."

He chuckled lightly.

"I trust you remember where the bed is?" he asked as her led her to the veiled corner of the lair….

Wahey! Christine and Erik, together once more! Le w00t! Ahem regains composure Hope y'all enjoyed, hopefully will get Chapter 9 up sometime soon, only once again the old writer's block has set in once again, plus I have a load of school crap on. I will try me best. See you all next time, darlings!

(private joke here, people-I won't explain, because if I do, this chapter will become even longer than it is already).


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